


From the Files of Veronica Mars

by Lyzzybelle



Series: Stories I started to write (and might one day finish) [7]
Category: Supernatural, Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: But she won't say why, Inspired by Spellman Files, So everyone needs to stop asking, Veronica Smells a Rat, Veronica was kicked out of the FBI
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:59:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1412500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyzzybelle/pseuds/Lyzzybelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kicked out of the FBI and recovering from a gunshot wound, Veronica helps out in the Mars Investigations office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Files of Veronica Mars

  **Veronica Mars Tip #1 - I am an excellent poker player**

 

**Monday, 9:32AM**

It started out as a simple trace.

Dad was out of town, tracking down a pair of dumb ass bail jumpers that were trying to make it across the border. Unfortunately (for them), they had headed north. Yep. Good old Dumb and Dumber were heading the Canada- never mind the fact that Mexico was much closer.

It had been sheer luck that had Dad talking to Dumber's mother when she realized that her (rarely used) emergency credit card was gone. All it took was a few phone calls and presto! Dad found purchases at a gas station just north of San Jose and a Walmart just off the interstate.

Dumb and Dumber had loaded up on snowshoes and parka's, as well as a Forder's Guide to British Columbia. I laughed hard…it was June and I guess no one had ever told the idiots that Canada does actually experience high temperatures and sunshine in the summer.

I was home, resting up after a GS wound (which is a very embarrassing story that will never ever be told during my lifetime, so don't even ask) that I had gotten during my short (and not illustrious) career with the FBI. Two and half years of training and getting pats on the head (I swore, if I heard myself described as "spunky" one more time…) and I had started to wonder about my life choices.

It had been a slow week and I didn't blame Dad for hightailing it off towards the Great White North in hopes of a little diversion and extra cash for my little half-brother Alex's college fund (the kid was still in diapers and between my Dad, Alisha my step mom and Wallace my identical twin brother - I just loved the expression other's got when we introduced ourselves as such- Alex had a healthier savings account than I did).

Alisha and Alex were in Chicago visiting her sister. Wallace was starting for the Lakers and, although it was the off season, his agent had him in New York to meet with some ad exec's company that was trying to market a new soft drink.

Missy Bradley, Dad's secretary, had taken time off to nurse her husband Marty, who was recovering from a tonsillectomy (yes, a tonsillectomy. Missy loves nothing more than playing nursemaid when Marty is ill. She once took a _week_ off of work when Marty complained of indigestion – she kept dragging him off to the doctor and made them run an echocardiogram because she had seen an ER re-run that had a man dying from a heart attack when he thought it was only indigestion.)

So, it just so happened that one muggy Monday that it was one Veronica Mars manning the phones at Mars Investigations when a call came in.

 

* * *

 

It was half past nine in the morning and I had my head down on my desk (well, Missy's desk now, but I sat here for most of my high school and college years, so forgive me if I consider this hunk of particle board mine). I was nursing a hangover because of the late night I spent the evening before with my bestie Mac. Mac was getting married on Saturday and had decreed that the week before her wedding was her bachelorette party (yes the whole _freaking_ week and don't even get me started…as maid of honor it was my duty to plan each night of debauchery) and I was officially out of ideas.

So….where was I? Oh, yeah the phone call.

So here I was, slumped over the desk in a semi-unconscious state when I heard the quiet sound of the door to the office opening and closing followed by footsteps. And I, Veronica Mars, trained by the FBI, barely blinked.

It's no wonder they fired me.

Oh, that got your interest? Sorry, but this is not the tale of how and why Veronica Mars was fired from the FBI. Some other time…maybe. Haha

Where was I? Something about… oh yeah, the phone call.

It wasn't the person standing near my desk giving me a soft chuckle that caused me to raise my head. It was the smell…that delicious sinful smell that put a slow smile across my face. Languorously, I kept my head down and stretched out my arm, palm up, slowly opening and closing my hand.

"Give it." I demanded, my eyes still closed.

"Jeeze V. Can't you even greet a guy before making demands?" I didn't have to open my eyes to picture the laughing eyes that were staring down at me.

My head still rested on my arm and my hand opened and closed faster.

"Give it." A slight whine entered my voice and the chuckle turned to a full bodied laugh that I heard more frequently. I winced a little at the loudness of the sound but grinned in return.

I was rewarded with the heat of a cup of Neptune's finest latte.

"Mmmmmm." My palm turned and nudged the steaming cup as I slowly lifted my head and inhaled deeply. "Hazelnut Latte….nectar of the Gods." I lifted the cup and sipped.

My eyes opened and I regarded the man in front of me.

As it always seemed to do these days, it gave me a bit of a shock. I had known him for years…first as the leader of the PCH, a local biker gang and sometimes informant then as a friend. Also, contrary to local gossip we had never had anything remotely romantic between us other than the occasional flirting and innuendo. By the time I grew up and joined the FBI, I had experienced enough romantic drama to fill an entire series of young adult books. Seriously.

The boy I knew in high school had grown and morphed into a responsible adult. Gone was the leather jacket, worn jeans, tight wife-beater and give-em-hell attitude that he wore like armor. Even his name was different. Back then he was _Weevil_. Now he was just-

"Thanks Eli." _Eli._ Eli had come a long way since high school.

"Least I could do for you V. You showed my Mac a good time and made sure she got home safe in the early hours of the morning. This-" he gestured to the cup I clutched in my hand life a life preserver, "is my appreciation."

I still couldn't believe that Eli and Mac were getting married. I got the news a few months ago when I first returned to Neptune after the… _incident._ It only took me about two seconds to realize how awesome they were together. I had never seen Eli grin and laugh so much and Mac…well Mac looked- (Okay, I know this might sound lame, but you would have to know Mac to know that this is the best possible thing) – _relaxed_. And ecstatic.

Okay…where was I? Okay-phone call.

Eli, showing just how well he knew me, placed a small bottle of Aleive next to the cup and I grinned again.

"You really are the perfect man." I shook two little capsules into my palm and dry swallowed them gratefully. I replaced the lid and slid the bottle across my desk. Eli shook his head.

"Oh no, V. Today is only Monday and I have a feeling you will need the whole bottle before the week is out."

I groaned a response. "Bachelorette Week? How did she even think of that?"

He flashed a grin at me. "She's a genius." He said.

"As if she would _ever_ let me forget."

"So," his grin faded and he casually looked out the plate glass window of the office door, "What's on the agenda for tonight?"

"Oh no, I don't break that easily Navarro." I thumped my chest importantly, "The FBI train their people better than that. You can pull my nails off, pull my arms out of my sockets, break my kneecaps- what the hell Weevil?" I exclaimed jumping out of my seat when he scooped up my cup of liquid crack and held it over his head and out of my reach.

I cursed the height-challenged genes I receive courtesy of my parents.

"Eli giveth and Eli taketh away…" he taunted.

I admit, I was about to break. It is a sad fact that all it took to get information from Veronica Mars was withholding a latte. But it's true.

No wonder they kicked me out. (And, I repeat, I am not sharing _that_ story, so stop asking.)

I was just about to cry "uncle' when I remembered a tasty little piece of blackmail that I had never used.

I smiled my best evil smile (a la Mr Burns from The Simpsons) and I was rewarded when Eli looked at me warily.

"I think you will give me back the coffee."

He chuckled, but my gut told me that he knew I had something on him. He knew me too well and he could clearly hear the confidence in my voice. Of course, in true _Weevil_ fashion, he covered it up well.

"What makes you say that?"

I smirked, leaned back in my chair and propped my feet on my ( _Missy's)_ desk.

"Oh you will, unless…" I affected a nonchalant inspection of my nails. _Crap._ I needed to make sure I booked a manicure before the wedding. My cuticles looked really ragged. "you want me to tell Mac the _true_ story behind your nickname."

He slowly blinked then his smug expression was on his face and for one moment, it was like we were in high school again.

Go Pirates! Rah-rah-blah.

_Good times._

"That ain't no secret, everyone knows that story."

I laughed and shook my head.

"Eli, you remember my afterschool job in highschool? I was a private investigator. That old story smelled fishy from the get go and I made it my business to learn the facts…"

He looked at me, judging me to see if I was bluffing.

I held my gaze and didn't blink.

Veronica Mars Tip # 1 – I am an excellent poker player - Eli has lost enough money to me over the years to know that he could never tell the difference between when I held a four of a kind or bluffed my way through a shitty hand.

Ten seconds later I sipped my latte and Eli gave an unwilling chuckle. I decided to grant his wish and share my plan for evening two of Bachelorette Party Week.

"So Eli, did I hear that there is a new _male_ strip club that opened up a few miles out of town?" Eli narrowed his eyes and I sipped my latte innocently.

I spent the remainder of the morning typing out notes for Dad's files, closing out some of the cases he had finished the week before and sending out the billing statements. I noted that dates that the statements went out in Dad's case files and then stuffed them into envelopes.

I placed the envelopes into my handbag and was ready to walk out the door to make a quick run to the post office when the phone rang.

If only I hadn't picked it up.


End file.
